


petals and pain

by poutydoyoung



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Choi Youngjae-centric, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang, Jackson is a Good Friend, M/M, Sad Ending, Suicide, hanahaki disease au, if you blink you'll miss him, jaebum and jinyoung are kind of assholes, mark appears for like one second, youngjae dies, youngjae just wants to be loved back for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poutydoyoung/pseuds/poutydoyoung
Summary: youngjae hurts but jaebum doesn't notice until it's too late





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not beta read and my first fic here so please be kind (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

youngjae's stomach turns uncomfortably and shivers shoot up his spine when jaebum’s harsh gaze is trained to him, eyes piercing as if it were burning right through him. he seems to scowl at first but his features soften, the only thing that remains cold and harsh are his eyes. 

his heartbeat picks up when jaebum turns back around to talk to jinyoung, hands laced together lightly under the table. their fingers dance as they find a comfortable position, flitting over each other with the barest of touches. 

youngjae almost coughs right then and there, doubling over in pain, his chest feeling compressed. petals jump in his throat, threatening to spill if he opens his mouth so he keeps it shut, the petals tickling his tongue. 

the pressure builds in his stomach and he comes so close to letting the petals spill so he runs out of the class, ignoring the harsh voice of his teacher. he races down the halls to the closest washroom, barely able to lock it before he collapses on his knees, coughing up dozens of tiny petals, letting them scatter all over the bathroom floor.

he lets out a small sob, face hidden in his arms. he hates it. he hates how much it hurts to cough up flower petals, hates how it's just another blunt way of saying he's not loved back. 

he hates how it’s there whenever he even thinks about jaebum but he doesn't want them gone, because having them gone would mean he'd stop loving jaebum and to him that was worse. 

he'd rather endure the pain that followed seeing jaebum hold hands or kiss with jinyoung than he would feel empty, a vast abyss as if someone had ripped out a part of him. 

he picks up one of the petals with a shaky hand, bringing it closer. the mocking purple petal of an anemone stares him in the face and he can't help but shudder. he looks around and sees the petals of two-toned carnations and yarrows joining the anemone on the floor and he quickly moves to sweep them up, flushing them down the toilet.

he walks back into class, head bowed, ears red and he can feel the gaze of all seventeen students trained on him as well as the teacher boring holes through him.

as he walks up to his seat he brushes past jaebum’s arm, almost coughing again but he forces it down and pulls a slightly sour face. 

he stumbles back to his seat and sits back down weakly and jackson rubs his back, casting a dirty look at jaebum who just turns to give jinyoung a kiss. “i’m going to cut his dick off.” he whispers. 

youngjae just shakes his head and sighs knowing there's no point in trying to talk sense into jackson,opening his notebook (admittedly more of a sketchbook) and clicks his pen, doodling again to keep his focus off of jaebum. 

these flowers always had a horrible way of rooting themselves in youngjae and never going away. the first time was in the sixth grade when he'd fallen fast and hard for an eighth grader, he'd had purple crocus’ pop up then. the second time was in elementary when he'd started to admire mark. back then he'd had morning glories coughed up. the third time was near the end of high school and lavender had made an appearance along with forget-me-nots when he'd fallen hard for jinyoung. 

now it was jaebum and the flowers this time seemed scathing, each representing something that seemed to mock him. the anemone ment ‘forsaken’ as youngjae had learned, the yarrows were for love and the two-toned carnations ment ‘i can't be with you’. 

there was something about these flowers that were taunting, the flowers meanings were upsetting but youngjae knew there was only two real ways out of this and he would rather die than break jinyoung’s heart. he still found a small part of him caring for the older boy. 

but every small, mocking touch between them as they casted short glances back at youngjae made him want to throw up more than just bile and flower petals, like maybe his insides. 

his chest starts to feel taunt again but he pushes it down and looks over at jackson, who's still staring daggers through jaebum’s head. 

youngjae barely makes it out of the class alive and he walks slowly down the halls, feet dragging. his head hurts and his chest is pounding. 

as much as he wants jaebum to love him he knows he won't, not when he has someone as amazing as jinyoung. because who would give up jinyoung for him. 

he's nobody but choi youngjae, the idle idiot who falls in love too fast, too hard, too often. 

youngjae doesn't even make it to his bed, collapsing onto his knees in front of it, sobbing and coughing up petals. just like last night. and the night before and the night before. 

the next day he barely manages to drag himself out of bed, feeling empty and worthless. the class seems to drag by and he feels like he's drowning in petals as they claw their way up his throat. 

jackson is by his side the whole day, classes or not. he cleans up after youngjae, throwing out all the flowers that youngjae coughed up which is a lot because he hasn't stopped hacking them up. 

eventually jackson has to leave, having promised to meet mark, and youngjae lies in his bed alone, crying and coughing into a garbage bag. he gets up weakly and wanders to the kitchen, opening a drawer. 

ㅡ-. 

youngjae kneels in front of his bed, hands on his thighs as he looks at the small knife in front of him. 

‘this is it,’ he thinks, ‘the only way to make it stop. jaebum would never love me.’ 

he takes a deep breath and slowly wraps his hand around the hilt, fingers holding on tight. he closes his eyes and bring it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to the flat side. 

slowly, he brings it down, edge pressing lightly into the left of his neck. he takes a deep breath, steadying his shaky hand. 

he counts to three before closing his eyes and dragging the blade across his neck as fast as he can. the knife flatters to the floor and he gasps, grabbing at his throat.

he hears a knock on the door and panics, saying "come in” in as loud as he can without a second thought before he falls to the ground, shaking. immediately, he regrets it. 

only a few small petals fall out, much less than expected but he fails to notice. the door opens and the last thing he sees is jaebum and jinyoung’s horrified faces before everything goes black. 

ㅡ-. 

jinyoung runs in and falls to his knees immediately, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around youngjae’s neck, trying in vain to stop the blood. 

jaebum stands, shaking. his lips are quivering and his knees are weak. he takes a step back, breathing heavy. he’d come with jinyoung, the younger having had convinced him to talk to youngjae but here the boy was, dead at his feet and bleeding from his neck.

“wait. are those…..hyacinth petals?” jaebum takes a step forward. “blue and yellow."


	2. afterword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! another chapter!
> 
> this an epilogue and i wasnt actually planning on adding more but it ended up happening as i drove to my friend's trailer

_jaebum stands staring at the tombstone in front of him, jinyoung crying into his shirt. the male is barely visible, only his hair peeks out in weird places._

 

_his hair is soaked from the previous onslaught of rain and so are his clothes but he's donned his jacket to the shaking form of the younger, worried he'd catch a cold. his arms bring jinyoung closer, hand patting and smoothing down his hair._

 

_his lips are pulled taunt and his hands fist around his jacket that hangs from jinyoung's shoulders. one or two tears make it's way down his face._

 

_jinyoung had confided in him the day youngjae had died. he had said he liked the other boy too. said youngjae used to have petals escaping him for him._

 

_he was sure the petals they'd seen that day were because he'd fallen for another boy. he didnt know that boy was standing with him in the room._ _he didnt know that boy had pushed youngjae away and ripped up his confession letter in front of the sobbing younger, who had fallen to the floor and thrown it out._

 

_but jaebum did._

 

_and maybe it was because of him, no, it was because of him the youngest of them had had to go, by his own hands, to stop the pain. the pain he had caused him._

 

_it had only clicked for jaebum a few days after, but he hadnt the heart to tell jinyoung that the boy he loved had made the other boy he loved leave so fast, so suddenly, so terribly._

 

_so instead he greaves in silence with him. youngjae's tombstone sat prettily on top of a hill, a single orchid tree alongside it._

 

_the few days after youngjae's death had been long but blurry, not a single memory sticking to him for longer than a few moments. the only things he remembered vividly was youngjae's spasming body on the floor, jackson yelling at him while crying, trying weakly to punch him and the funeral._

 

_everything seemed surreal, as if youngjae would pop out of the ground, smiling and laughing and saying it was all a joke. he wasnt dead. but he very much was._

 

_and it had taken four years for jaebum to stop blaming himself. he had to keep reminding himself that it wasnt entirely his fault no matter what he wanted to think not everything was because of him. youngjae hadn't died only because of him. five years to come clean to jinyoung, to tell the younger that youngjae had tried confessing to him. twice, even. but that he had turned him down, rather harshly the second time. jinyoung had asked to see the letters but jaebum hadnt kept them and seven years to stop visiting youngjae's grave every other day, jinyoung in hand, driving for fifteen minutes then hiking for another twenty and standing on the hill as snow, leaves and rain fell on them._

 

_in the seven years, jinyoung had broken off from jaebum, asking for some time alone. the older had agreed and jinyoung had told him he'd be back when he was okay._

 

_yesterday, jinyoung had come back to seoul after two and a half years and had asked, almost begged, jaebum to take him to youngjae's grave._

 

_so the two stood, after jinyoung had placed down a bouquet of flowers and a letter, the younger crying into jaebum's chest, the latter still numb to youngjae's death._

 

_three years after jinyoung came back, jaebum visited the grave on his own, letter in hand, it was rather thick as he had had a lot to say. he had finally realized that the bubbling feeling in his chest the last few days before youngjae had died wasnt annoyance or hate but him starting to enjoy the younger's company. liking his pretty smile, his laugh and way he moved his hands when he talked about something he was passionate about, how he'd playfully punch someone, how he was always radiating warmth. the doodles he drew in his notebook instead of notes, his voice when he sang, how it stood out from everyone else. how much he loved music, how you could see how much he cared about jackson, how much he worried for the people he loved, how he wore his heart on his sleeve. he had fallen in love with how you could read youngjae, how he always had his emotions and thoughts on display for the world to see, unashamed._

 

_jaebum had been a fool. he had realized he loved youngjae back ten years too late. if he had been ten years quicker who knew how they could have fit themselves into each other's lives._

 

_maybe youngjae would still be here, pursing his dream of being a singer. maybe the three would be together happily, living with each other. maybe jinyoung wouldnt have left for nearly three years, maybe jaebum wouldnt ne crying in front of his graves even after ten years, on his knees as if he were pleading for forgiveness, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe._

 

_just maybe he would still be here._

**Author's Note:**

> a blue hyacinth symbolizes sincerity while a yellow hyacinth means jealousy


End file.
